


Drinks with Neighbors (GND)

by whatdoyouthinkmyjobis



Series: Hunters on the Hellmouth [33]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fights, Mystery, POV Outsider, Plot Twists, Plotty, Set in Sunnydale, Sex, Smut, Spells & Enchantments, Stress Baking, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis/pseuds/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis
Summary: Concerned for her safety, Sam is determined to open Jada's eyes to the monster-filled truth of the world around her.





	

Carrying Jada’s basket of clean, empty pie tins, Sam made another hopeful foray into the hallway connecting his apartment to hers. She wouldn’t talk to him Thanksgiving night or either time he had tried on Friday. But this morning, the locks clicked back and she peaked out at him with weary eyes while blocking his entrance with her body. She would see him, but that was all she felt up to.

Sam withdrew a bouquet of pink and black poppies from the basket.

Her face softened as she admired them. “Did you know these are my favorite?”

“Dottie told me,” Sam confessed.

Jada huffed. “That’s the thing she remembers?”

“I know you’re embarrassed–”

“Humiliated is a better word, Sam.”

“But you don’t have to be! No one is mad at you, Jada. Spike is fine. Besides, everyone understands Dottie isn’t well.”

Jada shook her head in disbelief. “Auntie doesn’t think she did anything wrong because she’s convinced Spike’s a vampire. Can you imagine? So let’s say you have the kindest, most forgiving friends in the universe, I still can’t see them again lest Auntie decides someone else is a monster.”

Her hair was frizzy. Her eyelids slightly swollen. Jada, an avid morning person, was still in her pajamas after ten. Clearly the last few days hadn’t been easy.

Sam tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and turned her chin up to him. “I can handle monsters. Don’t punish yourself by cutting people off. We still on for tomorrow?”

Sunday morning while Dottie was at church was one of the few times they didn’t have to worry about a sitter. This Sunday, Dottie planned to spend the whole day there decorating for Christmas.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Depends on how today goes.”

“Then promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Do something you love, okay?”

Jada nodded and bobbed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “You’re a good man, Sam Winchester.”

* * *

 

The bright chords of “Sweet Child of Mine” hadn’t even reached their second bar by the time Dean cranked the Impala’s radio up to a painful level. He grinned ear-to-ear as he sang at Sam. “She’s got a smile it seems to me / Reminds me of childhood memories / Where everything / Was as fresh as the bright blue sky.”

“No,” Sam declared, punching the radio off. “Axl’s voice is bad enough on it’s own.”

Dean snarled in disgust. “What are you talking about? It’s a classic, Sammy.”

“Since when do you care about hair bands?”

The car remained quiet for another block before Dean grumbled, “What crawled up your butt and died?”

Instead of spending Saturday with Jada like he’d hoped, Sam was on his way to Buffy’s with Dean. All morning, he’d been wondering what her reaction would be if he told her vampires were real. She had to know somewhere deep down that was true even if she couldn’t say it.

But Jada’s blindness to the monsters around her wasn’t Dean’s fault. Sam clicked the radio back on, though at a less ear-bleeding volume. “Sorry.”

Dean lip-synced the _oh, oh, ohs_ , shooting side-glances at his brother the whole time.

“Do you think maybe there’s a spell on Jada or something?” Sam asked.

“That would explain why she’s into you.”

“Har har har. But there’s gotta be something, right? Something other than shock and denial at work?”

Dean shrugged as he turned onto Buffy’s street. “Conveniently, there’s a witch in Buffy’s house, and I’ll bet she could answer a question or two.”

When they arrived, Sam said hello to Buffy, buried under a pile of reference materials; gave Dawn a hug, taking a rain check on her invite to look for Christmas decorations in the basement; and found Willow, glassy-eyed and pale, in a pile of blankets in her room.

“No offense, but you look like death warmed over,” he said.

She blew her red nose. “I hope that’s the cute, perky version of death.”

“Absolutely. Can I get you anything?” His question could wait for a day of less sneezing and coughing.

Willow began to unwrap herself from the twisted blankets, her foggy brain making the task more difficult than it needed to be. “Can you grab that blue, starry box on the dresser? I want to make some tea.”

“You lay down. I can get your tea,” Sam said, retrieving her box.

She tried to smile, even that taking more motor-coordination than she had. “It’s a special witch tea. And I’ve been in bed too long.” She gestured to the mountain of tissues and empty dishes by her bedside. 

He extended his arm to her. “At least hold on to me on the stairs.”

Willow pulled her hood up over her sweaty hair and held a blanket tightly around her shoulders. “You don’t usually come over on Saturdays, or did I sleep through Saturday?”

He chuckled and helped her onto a kitchen stool. “It’s Saturday.”

“Willow, one. Sickness… you know I never liked competitions.”

“My plans sorta fell through.” Sam put a mug of water in the microwave while she selected herbs from her box.

“Jada still upset about Spike? Because most of us have hurt Spike, or at least dreamed about it,” she said innocently. “If anything, it makes her and Dottie one of the gang. Two of the…?”

The microwave beeped, and Sam set the steaming mug in front of her. “Yeah, but we all know Spike is a vampire. Do you need a diffuser for that or something?”

Willow rubbed some herbs between her palms, the colorful flakes spreading over the top of the hot water. “It’s sort of a roughage tea.” She stirred it vigorously before taking a sip, leaving flecks of purple and green across her top lip.

Sam wiped at his top lip.

Willow wiped her face with her sleeve. “Witching is not so much glamorous.” Keeping her eyes on Sam, she took another sip.

“So is that some magic brew to get rid of your cold?” he asked.

“Brew sounds so…newty.”

Dean popped his head in the kitchen. “You guys wanna – not you, you should be in bed,” he said to Willow with concern. “Sam, wanna help Dawn with the Christmas stuff?”

“No tree until Christmas Eve!” Buffy shouted from the other room.

“Got it!” he shouted back.

“Uh, no,” Sam said with a grin. “Maybe later?”

“Your loss. I’ll be in the basement jingling my bells.”

“Did he mean for that to sound dirty?” Willow asked after Dean left.

“Probably.”

Willow squinted at Sam over her mug.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked.

“Huh? What? No, I’m just, you know, all snot faced.” She blew her nose, wet and thick-sounding, for emphasis.

Put off by her absent-minded staring, Sam started making himself some hot chocolate. “Will, you’re a Sunnydale lifer, right?”

“Yep.”

“So when did you learn all this stuff about vampires and magic?”

“When Buffy came and my friend Jesse was turned. Not that her coming caused Jesse, but I’m not very symantical right now.”

Sam remembered the story of how they all met, of Jesse and The Master, of Buffy’s surprise when they stuck by her side. But they had sixteen years of Sunnydale weirdness behind them by then. “So gruesome news stories didn’t stick out to you or anything?”

Willow twisted her lips and squinted, using more effort to think than she probably had. “I guess I didn’t have enough to compare it to. You know how kids think their house is normal, then one slumber party shatters the illusion.”

“I was never really big on slumber parties,” he said, taking a sip of his cocoa. But she was right. It wasn’t until his second school in first grade that he realized the constant moving, his dad’s absence, his mother’s death were all abnormal. It was years later before he figured out the horrible truth. But he figured it out. “I was wondering if Jada was maybe, I don’t know, enchanted or something. Why doesn’t she see what’s going on?”

Willow shrugged. “You could ask Spike to show her his teeth, but I think she’d freak. People just sort of have to come to it on their own, or you risk breaking them.”

“Just to be sure, you wouldn’t happen to have any spell-revealing-spells in your deck?”

She looked at her box, a twinge of guilt on her face. “Yeah, I could make you something. A tea?”

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe you don’t have any sugar,” Jada said with a smirk. “Doesn’t that disqualify you from being a proper neighbor?”

It was after eleven. Sam had come back from nearly four hours of patrol with a ringing headache from a vampire’s lucky hit. He didn’t have too much time with his ice pack before Jada – in a flurry of late night de-stress baking – lightly knocked on his door asking to borrow a cup of sugar.

“Is it really borrowing?” he asked, happy to see her dressed and in motion.

“If I give you some of the goodies, yes.” She grinned.

Trusting Dottie would stay asleep, Sam put on his coat and walked Jada to a convenience store a few blocks away.

“How much have you baked to run out of sugar? Don’t you buy it by the barrel?”

“I’m up to twelve dozen cookies,” Jada confessed.

“What?”

“It’s for a holiday thing at Auntie’s church. You told me to do something I love. Feeding people relaxes me.”

Sam squeezed her chilly hand. “Feeling better?”

Jada hung her head. “We’re going home to San Francisco for a couple weeks around Christmas. I want my mom’s opinion about putting Auntie in a home.”

He bit his tongue. Vampires and other monsters were real, meaning Dottie was lucid far more than Jada knew. But Sam wasn’t the one spending all day taking care of her. He wasn’t frayed at the edges, trying to get back glimpses of a loved one slipping out of reach.

“A home here or north with your mom or what?” He tried to sound casual.

“Probably here. Cheaper.” She grinned at him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

They were standing at the mouth of the alley a few yards away from the store. Behind Jada, in the shadows of the buildings, Sam spotted two men prowling towards them. “Hey, why don’t you run inside for your stuff? I want to wait out here. Fresh air.”

“Um, okay, did you want any–”

A third shadow in a long sweeping coat jumped the wall behind the other two. “Nope, I’m good,” Sam said and practically shoved her toward the store.

“Oi! Uglies!” shouted the third man.

The vampires stopped advancing and considered their options.

Slipping a stake from his coat pocket, Sam entered the alley as the two vampires turned back to the third man.

“Ganging up then? You’re not usually this smart,” the man complained. Grabbing the bottom of the fire escape, he swung, kicking both vampires in the jaw. One tumbled into a pile of garbage, the other, only stunned, managed to pull the man down by the leg.

As Sam reached for the vampire on the ground, it spun, knocking him off his feet. Sam’s head hit the ground with a crack, and his vision became a blur of stars. A heavy weight, the vampire was on top of him, knee pressed into Sam’s chest, face twisted and snarling as it advanced on his neck.

With a quick thrust, Sam turned it to dust. Brushing the dust from his face and still seeing stars, Sam gripped his stake tighter and shuffled toward the other two men fighting in the alley.

The stranger would get the vampire in his reach, punch it a few times in the head, take his own hits, and back off like he was playing cat to its mouse. “You’re shit at this. Did your granny teach you ‘ow to fight?” the man taunted.

In a fury, the vampire grabbed him and tossed him into the concrete wall. It shouted and rushed at the man, rushing right into a stake.

Sam held his stake tighter, and reached into his jacket for a knife in case the stranger was more unhinged than helpful.

“Thanks for the help, mate, but you should run along.” The man lit his cigarette, casting deep shadows on his bruised face.

“Spike?”

Spike held up the lighter to look at him. “Oh, hey Sam. That’s right. This is your slice of town. Doing a right shit job keeping the ghoulies out.”

“Sam?” Jada, looking small and frightened, stood at the end of the alley. “Wh-what’s going on?”

Where to start? “Well, uh, Jada, you should know that–”

“I get a couple beers in me and talk a little too much shit when I play cards,” Spike said, coming out of the shadows. He pointed at a bruise on his cheek. “Your man saw ‘em ganging up on me an’ chased ‘em off. Thanks, mate.”

“Oh.” Jada was so fixated on Spike, Sam wondered if she’d even heard. “I guess that goes with the hand.”

Spike waved her concern away. “Didn’t even draw blood. Just caught me by surprise is all. I mean, your aunt and I hadn’t even played cards yet.”

“I’m still so very sorry.” Jada held her bag close to her chest, like a shield. “She shouldn’t have done that, and I should have stayed to make sure you were okay, but –”

“No ‘arm done,” Spike said with certainty. “Don’t fret that pretty ‘ead of yours.”

Sam gently took Jada’s bag and slipped his arm around her. “Let’s get you back to your baking. Spike, let’s grab a beer.”

Spike looked around for someone else Sam could have been inviting over. “I don’t think that brother of yours would like me in your place.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam said.

* * *

 

They walked the few blocks back to the apartment in silence. At her door, Sam kissed Jada on the forehead and made her promise to come over the next day.

Once she disappeared into her apartment, Sam told Spike to wait in the hall while he fetched something from his apartment.

“Knew you wouldn’t invite me in,” Spike grumbled.

When he returned carrying a small green cooler, Sam gestured for Spike to grab the ice pack sitting on top. “You may heal quickly, but that still has to sting.”

Skeptical, Spike took the ice pack and followed him up a dark, narrow staircase to the roof where two lawn chairs waited for them.

At ease in his space, Sam sat down, pulled a beer from the cooler, and handed it to Spike. “Have a seat, dude.”

Spike lightly kicked the leg of the chair. “And let Papa Bear find me sitting in ‘is chair? That story doesn’t end well for Goldilocks.”

“Chill, all right,” Sam said with a grin. “Dean’s at Buffy’s. Besides, I don’t think he cares what you do.”

“Only ‘e’s threatened to beat me a few times,” said Spike, relaxing in the chair, cold beer in his hand, ice pressed against his bruised cheek.

“He’s over that,” said Sam with a shrug, like Spike had been a summer fad. “At least he never mentions you. I think he’s getting more comfortable here.”

Spike, not feeling one night discussing classic rock had put him on Dean’s buddy list, tossed his cap on the roof. “I don’t follow.”

“Where we’re from, it’s a lot more black and white. If it’s not human, it’s going to kill you. I’ve spent most of my life hunting, and have only encountered a few examples to the contrary. Then we get tossed here and there’s a superhero girl with a witch best friend, demon, uh, what would you call Anya?”

“Opportunist? Survivor?” Spike offered.

“Yeah, and then there’s this vampire the vampire Slayer hangs out with because he has a soul and that makes him different. It was a little unsettling at first, especially for Dean.”

“But not for you?”

Picking at the label on his beer, Sam looked out over the town. “Monsters come in all shapes and sizes, like that dickwad Willow killed.”

“Riiiight.” Spike sipped his beer and surveyed the town in silence.

“Thanks, by the way,” Sam said.

Spike slammed his beer down on the cooler with a thunk. “What’s your game? Seriously? Why are you being nice to me?”

“Dude, there’s no game.”Sam’s eyes were wide with innocence. “You’ve been helping with patrols, but I never see you. I never get to say thanks. My girlfriend is still terrified of being out alone at night, and you came out of nowhere to kill a couple vamps. So thank you.”

“It’s, uh, no big deal,” Spike muttered as he picked his beer up.

“You know what one of my favorite things about Sunnydale is?” Sam asked. “I finally get to have books, which I know sounds stupid, but I lived on paperback swaps all across the country just so I could have anything to read. With the monsters coming to me, now I have a full bookcase and even time to read. Do you read much, Spike? Guy your age, you must have thousands of books under your belt.”

Spike kept a small pile of poetry hidden under Xander’s couch. He expected to be mocked if the mook ever found them. He considered telling Sam, but he didn’t seem like a poetry guy either. “Public readings were a much bigger deal before television and radio came ‘round. After the Boxer Rebellion, my mates and I headed to Europe for a bit. Paris was full of poor artists tripping out on absinthe. Got to ‘ear Oscar Wilde a few times. It was always best when ‘e’d start insulting some bastard in the audience.”

Sam laughed, hearty and genuine. Maybe Spike would tell him about the poetry.

* * *

 

Jada smiled at herself in the mirror. She’d forgone her usual pink lipstick for a deep plum. “I look like a bad girl,” she giggled.

She’d slept in; the combination of late night baking and the relief of learning Spike was all right sent her into a deep sleep. Her aunt, thrilled with the dozens of cookies Jada had made, let her sleep in, tip-toeing around the house until she needed a ride. Well-rested but uncaffeinated,  her hair still up in a scarf, she had driven her aunt to church.

“Come with me, sweets girl. No one cares what your hair looks like,” her aunt had pleaded.

“I do, and thank you, Auntie, but I have plans.”

Giving herself another once over in the mirror, Jada adjusted her push-up bra. She’d always been self-conscious about her small breasts, feeling the push-up made her clothes fit better. After the first time she had sex, her boyfriend mentioned “feeling cheated.” But Sam didn’t seem to mind either her small breasts or the bra. With a sly smile, she unhooked it and left it on the bathroom floor.

Her heart raced as she waited for Sam to answer her knock, hoping Dean was spending the weekend with Buffy as usual. Sam opened the door, wearing pajama pants and a grin.

“You must be feeling better,” he said, panning his eyes from her heels, up her bare legs, to her short trench coat.

Jada tugged at the belt, tightening the loose knot. After a rough few days, she and her hot boyfriend had a day and a building to themselves. Her whole body throbbed, ready to be touched, to be sent over the edge. She’d woken up wanting his long fingers between her legs, his lips on hers. “I feel good.”

Sam stepped out into the hall, his tongue pressed against his teeth like he couldn’t wait to devour her.

“You want to bump that up to great?” she asked with a giggle.

He pressed her up against the stair railing, his hands on her waist, his breath hot on her neck. “Looks like you already have a plan for that.”

“Maybe,” she giggled.

Swiftly, he pulled off his t-shirt and untied her coat, exposing her hot skin to the air.

“Here?” she asked, heat rising to her cheeks. She’d expected him to carry to his bedroom or maybe they’d be risky on the couch. _No one will see us_ , she reassured herself.

“I gotta grab a condom. Don’t move,” he said, firmly, making her ache for him more.

She pulled a condom from her coat pocket. He grabbed it, and she pushed off his pants, a small gasp in her throat. She’d always liked tall men, but Sam was big all over.

He spun her around and slipped one hand between her legs, tantalizing her until she was a panting mess. Arms against hers, he bent her over, his hands covering hers as she gripped the wobbly railing. “Hang on,” he growled in her ear.

Trailing his hands over her skin, he settled the heel of one hand on her breastbone, his long fingers against her throat, and the other hand squeezing her hip, Sam pounded into her as he’d promised days before. She held the rail tight as he hit that spot – that spot none of her other boyfriends had hit – that sent her calling out her bliss.

Sam’s breath grew ragged. She looked over her shoulder to watch him shudder, eyes closed as he made a final, stuttering groan.

With half-closed eyes, he smiled at her, turned her back around and kissed her throat. She wrapped her arms around his waist, reveling in the feeling of his hands pressed into the small of her back as they stood naked in the hallway.

* * *

 

A half hour later, wearing his t-shirt and wrapped in one of the many blankets she’d left at his “always chilly” apartment, Jada beamed at Sam from the couch as he handed her a chocolately coffee. Mug cradled in her hands, she inhaled the rich vapors, her little cat smile in place.

Sam settled into the couch and pulled her legs into his lap, enjoying the quiet of the apartment, the bright afternoon sun, the warmth of his girlfriend. He sipped his tea and wiped the residue from his lip.

Everything looked the same. He should have asked Willow for more detail on how the spell would reveal itself.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she purred. “It’s nice to be normal for a moment, you know?”

Sam smiled and looked at his tea, unable to recall if he’d ever felt normal. “Yeah, it’s great.”

She shifted, rubbing her legs across his lap, springing his body to attention. “We’ve been seeing each other for about a month,” she said.

“Already?” he asked, wondering where this conversation was headed.

“Taking care of Auntie has been more difficult than I expected, but I’m so glad I came here. That I met you.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever dated.”

Sam Winchester, the Boy King, Lucifer’s chosen vessel, was sweet. Had anyone ever called him that? Everyday, he felt like he had to be as nice as possible so his darkness didn’t get to him. Did “sweet” mean it was working? He kissed her lightly on the knuckles.

“Hey, I found this new bookstore the other day. Want to check it out?” he asked.

Jada pouted. “Today is not for pants.”

Sam kicked himself for trying Willow’s tea today – the day his beautiful girlfriend wanted to stay inside wearing next to nothing, but he needed to get Jada outside, see if any spell alarms went off. “But we finished our last book. What are we going to read to each other?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “But if I have to get dressed, I get to pick the book. No snuggly crime novel!.

“Deal.”

The tea sloshed in Sam’s stomach as Jada drove them across town. Perhaps guzzling it hadn’t been the best idea.

“Since we’ve been reading all of this Victorian literature –”

“Regency!” said Jada. “Victoria wasn’t queen while Jane Austen was writing, Mr. Librarian.”

Her giddy excitement about British history – an area Sam admitted he hadn’t studied as much as others – was one of the things he liked about her. It was exciting to share excitement over historical trivia. _Jada would make one hell of a lore researcher._

“Regency. Right. Are you still up for romance, because I was thinking we could try something a little darker,” he suggested as they pulled into the parking lot of a nearly empty strip mall, a Grand Opening sign hanging proudly in front a small used bookstore.

She glanced at him skeptically over the top of her car. “It’s not just romance, you know.”

Sam put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, you pick.”

“What were you thinking,” she asked, curiosity piqued.

He shrugged, trying to pretend he hadn’t been thinking about this. “Maybe one of those classic British monster stories like _Frankenstein_ or _Dracula_.”

Jada shook her head. “I have enough monsters and vampires in my life, thank you.”

Sam’s heart skipped a beat. When she said _monsters and vampires_ , he saw a thin, white fog swirl briefly around her head.

He followed her into the store, cramped but well lit with the distinct thick smell of used books, suppressing his desire to pepper her with questions or call Willow with the news.

Jada headed toward the back, where the clerk said the classics were. Sam stayed with the clerk, an elderly lady in a paisley blouse. “Where do you keep your occult books? There’s this spell I’ve been working on –”

A thick cloud, much darker than the one around Jada, appeared around the woman’s head. “One of those cranks, huh? Basement. Bottom of the stairs. Don’t try anything. I’ve already had to clean something down there today.”

At the bottom of the stairs were two bookcases stuffed with spells, lore, and magic histories. A rail thin man in his late 20s scanned the next case over – Health.

“Hey, could I ask you a question?” Sam asked.

“Well, you just did.” The man smiled, his teeth like jagged headstones.

“Have you lived in Sunnydale long, because I’m new, and I gotta say this town is kinda weird.”

“Weird?” said the man with noticeable confusion. “I’ve been here about eight years. Never felt weird to me.”

They were alone in the basement, so Sam decided to dive in. “You don’t think all the deaths by vampires are weird?”

Again, a near-black cloud obscured the man’s head at the mention of the supernatural. “Did you say–? I, um, I gotta go.” The man scurried around Sam and tripped up the stairs.

Sam wondered if he should call Willow, tell her the whole town was under a spell. Only he knew it wasn’t the whole town, as Willow had drunk the same tea when talking to him the day before. What had she been looking for? That conversation would have to wait.

If he was going to solve this himself, he’d need resources. The dense shelves offered mostly beginner’s magic. Small levitations, limited protections, intros to charmed objects.

Then he spotted something, a small volume shoved between two books on blessings, its worn, brown leather so thin and dry he worried the spine would crack. He could barely make out some of Latin on the faded first page: _Dangerous girl…killer of the undead…myths…._

Sam had to remind himself to breathe; it was a book of Slayer lore containing stories he hadn’t seen in the official Council Histories!

A heavy set, middle aged woman with thick grey hair and a pile of crystal necklaces joined him in the basement. “Hey, do you know much about this stuff?” Sam asked.

“Is my witch-look that obvious?” she asked with a smile, her head unclouded.

He grinned and nodded. “I’m looking for spells. Confusion spells especially.”

She ran her fingers over the spines and pulled out a fat black volume. “Most people will tell you the Coven of Salem wrote the best stuff on confusion and chaos, but I think they took some really bad turns getting there. I prefer Sisterhood of Hecate if I want something really good.”

“Thanks,” he said. The book in his hands was familiar; Willow may have shown it to him. “Hey, if I told you vampires were real, what would you say?”

The woman, her head unclouded, looked around the basement, confirming no one was eavesdropping. “You must be new in town.” Her voice was low and soft as if sharing a secret with a child. “People don’t usually talk about it. I know there are some people who try to keep the population in check. You scared, sweetie? Cuz I could make you a charm; that’s what I use when I’m out at night.”

He shook his head and thanked her before heading upstairs to find Jada. Jada who couldn’t admit she’d been bitten by a vampire. Jada whose cloud had been the thinnest of everyone’s.

It was time to press.

Standing perfectly still by the classics, Jada had her nose buried in a book, another tucked under her arm.

“ _Phantom of the Opera_?” Sam asked.

She snapped her head up, surprised. “You seemed bored with romance. My family went to see the musical, oh, ten years ago. Kind of fantastical, but I adored it. Have you seen it?”

Sam shook his head.

“In case _Phantom_ is too intense…” With a smile, she held up the other book, _Emma_. “What did you find?”

Trying to keep his face as neutral as possible, he said, “A spell book for Willow, but I have a feeling she has it already.”

“Spell book?” The fog around Jada thinned.

“Yeah, Willow’s a witch.”

“You mean a Wiccan, like crystals and earth worship or something?”

Sam bit back a laugh. “That’s not quite Wicca, but yeah, she’s Wiccan and a witch, a pretty powerful one.”

Jada’s smile was gone, worry sat heavy in her eyes. “You’re being weird.”

“Weird? We could head over there now, if you want to see. She has a cold, but I’m sure she could still levitate a pencil or create an orb of light.”

“That’s not funny, Sam. Please, stop.” She turned away from him and headed for the register.

“I’m not joking,” Sam said gently, hoping to ease her stress. “You said you liked my friends. Obviously, it’s not something Will tells everyone, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

The fog around her head faded to puffs, but still she wouldn’t look at him. She smiled for the clerk, then announced she’d wait in the car.

“Not this one,” Sam said, handing the book of spells to the clerk. He paid for the small volume of Slayer lore, gazed at the clerk with his head tilted to the side and said, “Vampires.” The thick, dark cloud appeared again and the clerk acted as if she hadn’t heard.

As soon as Sam joined Jada in her car, she turned the music up, using the blaring brass backing Ella as a sign to not press. The disc moved to the next song. _That old black magic’s got me in its spell / That old black magic–_

Jada punched the button for the next track.

She knew. She knew, but she couldn’t say it. _You risk breaking them_ , Willow had warned.

Jada left the car idling across the street from their building.

“Coming?” Sam asked.

“Please go,” she said in a choked whisper. “I need…something normal.”


End file.
